Feed a Cold, Starve a Fever
by OMGtheNinjas
Summary: Saitou Hajime recieves a visitor when he has taken ill. Shounen-ai


Feed a Cold, Starve a Fever

Summary: Saitou Hajime recieves a visitor while he has taken ill.

Disclaimer: I have accepted that I don't own PMK and have the seppuku scar on my belly to prove that I don't own PMK.

Saitou Hajime might be a samurai. He might be Captain of the Third Squadron of the Shinsengumi, and he might have handy dandy psychic powers to boot. But, even when all this is taken into account, Saitou Hajime can still be defeated by the common cold.  
  
Three days of intensive patrolling in the rain had run his throat sore to the point drinking cold water seemed painful and he could barely breathe through his nose at all. Saitou's sinuses had given him a near constant headache so what little sleep he normally got seemed impossible. And so, after a lot of careful consideration, he decided that it was best for him and the men if he took a few days off from his duties in order for this chill to pass.  
  
The rain falling outside and the sounds of the others practicing in the dojo even in this weather comforted his heart a bit, but he still was uneasy. He had tried meditating, but the sinus pain made it even a chore for him. Writing down his thoughts were futile because it was difficult for him to even think straight, so there was nothing but a neat stack of blank paper on the small knee-high writing table by his futon. It was no use eating either. He was certain that it wouldn't make him feel better anyways. And he was wide-awake, whether he wanted to be or not.  
  
Instead, he was on his futon covered with as many blankets as he could muster and memorizing the exact way the ceiling of the room looked when he heard the soft sound of a pair of familiar geta clacking against the floor boards before the screen door was pulled open.  
  
"Ah, Saitou-san, I came to see how you were feeling," came the usual chipper voice of Okita Souji, the Captian of the First Squadron, as he peered in the doorway, a big innocent smile gracing his childlike face as usual. Saitou sat up, breathing deeply through his nose.   
  
"Okita, you shouldn't be out in the rain." Saitou wanted to add 'not with your condition' onto that. It was no secret among to Saitou that Okita was sick, but neither really wanted to talk about it. It was very disheartening to him to know that behind that smiling face, Okita was suffering from a terrible disease he could do nothing about.  
  
Okita tucked a stray hair behind his ear. "Don't worry about it. How are you feeling?"  
  
Sniffle. "Like Hell."  
  
"That bad, eh? I heard from the kitchen that you have not requested any food to be brought to your room, so I brought you something. Let me go get it!" Okita scurried away from the doorway, his geta clacking excitedly as he ran at least two rooms from where Saitou was.  
  
Saitou cleared his throat, so that he could at least speak in his normal tone and not the squeaky one the cold forced him to use. "Okita…I really don't think I can—"  
  
"Nonsense!" The chipper swordsman hollered back from down, interrupting Saitou's current train of thought. "If you have a cold, you should eat something. They say 'feed a cold, starve a fever', right? Besides, I brought something you have never been able to pass up!"  
  
Clack, clack, clack came the sound of Okita's geta before he took them off at the door and entered the room. He then placed a covered bowl on the writing table, kneeling down on the other side of the table opposite of Saitou. Okita did not need to uncover the bowl for Saitou to know what it was, even without his sense of smell.  
  
Saitou's eyes glistened hungrily as his stomach once again reminded him that it was empty and he muttered one word, stretching it out on his tongue. "….Soba."  
  
Okita uncovered the lid, and picked up some of the steaming noodles with the chopsticks, peering with his big blue eyes at his comrade. "Say 'Ah.'"  
  
"Okita…I am not a child. I can feed myself." Saitou chided. Okita made a face.  
  
"You're no fun. It was only a joke." Okita let out a small laugh before handing the chopsticks over to him. "Hey, not so fast! You'll burn yourself!"  
  
Saitou gobbled it up quickly, not heeding Okita's advice, soup and all. The soba was so good and just what he needed. He would have eaten the chopsticks too if he could. No sooner had he finished the bowl did the warm comforting feeling that only a good bowl of soba spread through his system and he began to feel drowsy and he flopped back down on the futon, completely forgetting Okita was still there.  
  
Okita poked him in the side gently with one of his callused, but still ladylike looking fingers. "You eat like a pig."  
  
"That's nice…" His eyelids fought to stay open and he let out a small yawn. "Thanks, Okita…"  
  
"No problem, Saitou-san." Okita smiled, tucking yet another strand of hair that had become astray behind his ear again. "Saitou-san?"  
  
Okita peered over at him, before noticing that his breathing had become the rhythmic pattern of a person who had finally fallen into a deep well deserved slumber. Giving him a soft look, Okita straightened the blankets covering Saitou, tucking him before brushing the bangs off of his forehead and respectfully placing a kiss on his forehead.  
  
"You get some rest now." He whispered gently, before picking up the bowl and closing the door, not putting his shoes back on. After all, Saitou needed as much rest as he could get.


End file.
